


To Cast Out Silence

by Tyaasei



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Cicero Needs A Hug, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hallucinations, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Insomnia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleep Deprivation, Unconventional Sleep Aids, Whump, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22575265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyaasei/pseuds/Tyaasei
Summary: Chased by the illusions of sleep deprivation, Cicero finds solace in in the arms of the Listener.
Relationships: Cicero (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Cicero/Female Listener (Elder Scrolls), Cicero/Listener (Elder Scrolls)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 88





	To Cast Out Silence

Nights in the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary were always as silent as a grave. While the dark brothers and sisters dwelled in the common area when the sun loomed overhead, chatting among themselves and eating, twilight sent them all slipping back into their quarters. By nature, most of them were solitary creatures who valued time to themselves, be it for sleep or more personal matters.

For the Night Mother's Keeper, it was neither.

  
The dead Jester’s blood-choked cackle from so long ago resounding in his mind kept him awake, staring forward with glazed over red eyes. A decade spent with only a corpse for company in the husk of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary had done little for his already addled mind. Now, even with the soft snores of his brothers echoing against the stone, it was still too quiet for him to get any form of sleep tucked away in his own room.

  
Oh, his insomnia was not for lack of trying, it was that one would learn to dread sleep when all it resulted in was bolting awake, drenched in sweat after reliving the death of his previous sanctuary. The blood of his brothers, spilled by the raiders and each other for treachery, haunted him.

  
And that was where Cicero had found himself this night, lying awake and boring holes in the ceiling with his eyes. Frustration overtook him, and he threw away his sheets with a growl to stand. If he couldn't sleep on his own again, he resolved himself to passing out while tending his mother. He might as well make himself useful in his restlessness, never mind that he had thoroughly tended to the Night Mother the day previously, and the day before that, and the day before that.

  
Paying no mind to the red, rats’ nest of his hair on top of his head, he tore his nightshirt over his head, grumbling when it got stuck. After tugging on his outfit and shoes, Cicero stuffed his hair under his cap and walked out the door with an exhausted amble in his step. A piece of his mind muttered that he should take care while closing his squeaky door, lest he wake one of the others and suffer the wrath of a grumpy assassin. Grunting under his breath, Cicero decided that he was too frustrated and irritated himself to care.

  
With bleary eyes, he stumbled into the common area lit only with the dying coals of the fire and a sparse scattering of candles about the room. He carefully felt his way through the room, running one hand against the wall while another stretched out in front of him. After ambling blindly through the dark again, he reached the dining table and sank into a chair. Lowering his forehead against the cool wood, he did his best to gather himself and push on up the stairs to the Night Mother’s coffin.

  
After resting for several minutes, he noticed the distant snoring had disappeared. The sanctuary had gone dead quiet, far quieter than it should have been when others were living there. He felt the edges of his eyes darken, his breath coming faster, drawing in stale, dust-filled air, like the sanctuary door hadn't been opened to the outside world in ages.

Then, from the dark, a bell jingled. It echoed against the stone wall as the bell sounded again, closer this time. A laugh, that god awful laugh, cut through the black like a knife, taunting. Just as he had when Cicero had split his throat in two, the Jester spoke no words, just laughed as he had when he was alone in the Cheydinhal sanctuary. The broken cackle rung out again, and Cicero clasped his hands around his ears, clenching his eyes closed and tucking his chin against his chest.

It wasn't real. That was over. He wasn't alone anymore. It wasn't always quiet. It was fine.

  
But was it?

  
Were all of the events of the past year all machinations of his starved, disturbed mind? Falkreath? Dawnstar? Astrid? His dear Listener? Had all of that not been real? No, it must have been. He had the scar from the Mutt cutting his belly open. It always ached before it rained.

  
The Jester laughed again, right next to his ear, so close that Cicero could feel his rancid breath against his skin.

  
It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. It couldn't. But he got closer to Cicero still, grossly overgrown nails digging into Cicero’s shoulders through gloves and motley, pressing further into his body, crushing him.

  
Sweet Sithis, sweet Mother, please make it stop.

  
"Cicero, is that you down there?"

  
And just like that, Cicero wasn't alone anymore. The Jester flinched and flickered away out of sight, banished once again to the darker realms of his mind. Head snapping up, Cicero gazed up toward the entrance of the cave. Through the dark, it was impossible to mistake the tall silhouette with the voice like a bell dipped in honey for anyone other than her.

  
"Listener," he called out, the normal trill of his voice absent, his tone soft, broken, and relieved, "You're home."

  
Graceful as ever, Eudora ghosted down the steps in a hurry to stand beside him, her warm hand coming to rest on his shoulder. The Listener’s hands were always warm, be it through fresh blood painting her callused skin red or the natural fire inside her that seemed to burn like her homeland.

  
"You seem unwell, my keeper," she said as she moved to kneel beside him, "What are you doing up this late?"

  
The question might as well have been rhetorical. Eudora was well aware of his troubles, of the uglier dark things inside of him, courtesy of that wretch Astrid's meddling with his journals. But leave it to his Listener to ask anyway, just to look after him, always caring for poor Cicero. And not out of pity either, that was the real wonder. Her dark hand drifted to his cheek, running her thumb against his cheekbone and grinning when Cicero leaned into her touch with a hum. The small grin lit up her face in the dim light.

  
"The Listener knows that Cicero needn't sleep much," he drawled, "And Cicero thought to make himself useful."

  
A somber look fell over her face. Eyebrows furrowed, Eudora said nothing for a moment, idly continuing her stroking.

  
"Mother is immaculate and well taken care of, my Keeper,” she said, “You need to look after yourself every once and a while too."

  
Cicero scowled at her.

  
"Cicero can care for himself just fine," He said with a grumble.

  
She frowned at him and sighed, brushing a lock of his hair away from his face with her other hand then cupping his other cheek, cradling his face.

  
"Cicero is also not in the mood to be chastised, Listener."

  
Her expression softened.

  
"I don't mean to chastise you," Eudora said, "I only mean to look after you when you struggle to do so yourself."

  
With a petulant huff, he allowed his shoulders to drop.

  
"Cicero is fine, Listener," he grumbled, “The Listener is quite the hypocrite, never sleeping when she needs to either, always putting it off, always something more important…” he added under his breath.

  
Though she heard every word, Eudora chose to ignore that little comment.

  
"Well, if you are so able,” she said, “And since mother is already well taken care of, do you suppose you could spend the night with me? Keep me company while insomnia rules us both? It gets terribly lonely here at night, and I haven't been able to come home as of late. I've missed you."

  
Even if he wanted to, he couldn't deny his Listener anything. He had missed her companionship and presence at his side as she did.

  
When he didn't object, Eudora rose from the ground, catching one of his hands while she stood. Carefully, she tugged him up from his chair and led him back to her chambers, a whispered night eye spell allowing her to navigate them through the dark without bumping into anything and getting either of them hurt.

  
The door to her room closed with a soft click, and for a moment, Eudora left him alone in the dark while she puttered around to dress down then light a candle.

  
Without prompting, Cicero closed his eyes, ever mindful to let his Listener keep her privacy, even while he was in the room and the darkness shielded her.

  
After several minutes of buttons being unfastened, ties coming loose, and fabric ruffling in the dark, a flame flickered to life, banishing the dark and lighting up her face. She set the down candle on her nightstand, she sat down to lie back on her bed, then beckoned Cicero closer, patting the space next to her.

  
For a moment, he hesitated. This was foreign territory. Yes, they’d traveled together many times, been alone out in the woods with no one else to disturb them, but this was different. He had never been inside her private quarters before, let alone so late and while they were alone and had the space to themselves. Still, he stepped forward, moving toward her in a way that would give her time to rethink her choice. However, just as his Listener had always done, she was resolute in her decisions and waited for him to join her in his own time.

Always so patient…

  
The wooden frame creaked beneath him as he sat down, careful to stay right on the edge of the mattress, just to be safe. Eudora reached out to grab his hand again, drawing his eyes back to her reclining form.

  
"Care to catch me up on what's happened since we last met?"

  
She stared at him, expectant, waiting for him to respond. Though that was not a question, rather a demand, Eudora’s gaze seemed to leave an opening to duck out if he felt the need. And of course, he wouldn’t.

  
If that was what the Listener desired, then that is what she would get.

  
Without another word, Cicero launched into a languid tale, recounting a recent quarrel between the new recruits over what method of killing was best. The blonde woman, who Cicero couldn't remember the name of and couldn't be bothered to think of it, had argued that a stealthy kill was best and exercised a professional finesse, while the taller, male recruit had argued that a more obvious kill would make a stronger statement that the Dark Brotherhood had struck. Eudora chuckled.

  
The longer he went on, the more his fatigue set in, and without intent, his head body fell forward, only avoiding slipping onto the floor by the Listener’s coaxing hand pulling him back toward her. His eyes began to droop, and the blurry vision had returned. A cool hand cupped the back of his head and combed through his tangled hair, knocking his cap to the soft furs on the bed. He didn't complain in favor of going on about Nazir's mounting frustration surrounding the others’ complaints about his cooking.

  
"Cicero, do you mind if I brush your hair?" she spoke in a whisper, "It’s quite the mess and will save you the trouble in the morning."

  
Thoughts flowing as smooth as molasses, he only grunted in acknowledgement as Eudora laid his head on her lap. The soft bristles of her hairbrush swept across his scalp with care, and he yawned. At this point, his eye lids were heavy, and his speech had become slurred to the point that even he couldn't follow it. Humming, he tried to push himself up, to stay awake a little longer, only to be pressed back into Eudora's lap.

  
"Relax. Sleep if you can, dear Keeper," her voice dripped with something he almost mistook for tenderness, "Let me take care of you. I’ll be here when you wake."

  
She only received a groan in response followed by a gentle wiggle as he got more comfortable.

  
To Cicero, part of his mind wondered if this was the first pleasant dream he'd had in ages. It was too warm, too perfect for anything to happen in the waking world. But he could resist his body's pleading for rest any longer, and he began to drift off. As he finally faded into sleep, he could have sworn he heard the quiet hum of a lullaby he couldn't place the words to. It only rocked him to sleep, coupled with the soft vibrations coming from her torso as she hummed, and the soothing hand carding through his hair.

  
He did not wake until the morning, his body tucked against Eudora’s, his head cradled against her collarbone, his breath doubtlessly tickling the small hairs on her neck. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, his eyes flicked up to see her, flinching backward when he finally realized his position. Dozing arms kept him held fast to Eudora. Her eyes flicked open, and, after a brief yawn, she smiled down at him.

  
"Sleep well, my Keeper?"

  
In the following days, the two fell into a nightly ritual between them, a quiet reprieve from the troubles of the world for two who couldn't stand the silence and solitude of night alone. Solace and rest at long last.

  
And though he did not speak it to his Listener, Cicero couldn’t help but wonder to himself what it meant. Why was he blessed so by the Brotherhood’s esteemed leader? The others knew of their activities, he’d heard whispers amongst them when they though neither Cicero nor Eudora were listening. She’d said nothing, just beckoned him back to her abode night after night, humming to him and holding him close, heedless of their rumors.

  
Cicero, though, did not make a habit of looking gift horses in the mouth, whatever that meant, and simply followed her lead, as he always would.

  
He could not recall ever being so content in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Is this platonic? Is it a budding romance? I dunno, I'm just the dummy who wrote it.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! If you could, I would really appreciate a kudos or a comment. I'm always looking for constructive criticism to improve my work. Thanks for reading and have a good one! ♥


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